Burned Out
by Miss Meira
Summary: When you lose your loved one, forgetting isn't an option. One week before the first anniversary of the War at Marineford, Marco finds himself in a foul mood and starts remembering things he wants to forget. Oneshot. MarcoAce.


**A/N: My first MarcoAce story! ****I don't know why I wrote this. While lying in bed last night, I suddenly wanted to write something sad about Marco and Ace. I was listening to **_**Ever Enough**_** by A Rocket to the Moon when this idea popped in my head even though the song has a different meaning. It doesn't? XD (^ the music lover who isn't sure of songs she listens to)**

**Marco is a very difficult character to write. I was very surprised. Most of my writer's block for this story is because of him.**

**Sorry for any mistakes. It's not beta-ed. Anyway, enjoy! (or not)**

**Disclaimer: One Piece is obviously not mine because *imagines strangling Oda* I would never kill Ace!**

For someone like Marco who had walked the earth for a long time, many would ask what his life was like. At first, he had been proud of his abilities and how people envied him. Yet as time went by, he grew bored and found that he became the one envious of others.

He downed his eleventh glass of alcohol before sighing for the umpteenth time. "Can you just let me go back to the ship, yoi?" he asked the crossdresser, ignoring the drinking match his crewmates were currently in.

Izo, who had obviously put his money on Vista judging by his goading, turned and glared at him. "Oh hell, no, you won't! Who knows what might happen to you this time?" Izo eyed the glass in Marco's hand. "Isn't that your eleventh glass?"

The blond sighed again. "It doesn't matter. And I promise I won't go to the shore and into the water. I just want to go back, yoi. I'm not even that drunk."

The former sixteenth commander snorted. "Right. With your late night drinking galore, I'm sure you now have a high tolerance for alcohol." Izo waved off Marco's glare as he called up his captain's new hobby. "All right, all right. You can go now. My gut tells me it's okay anyway."

O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O

Despite his promise with Izo, Marco found himself at the shore. He walked and stopped when he was a few steps away from the small waves hugging the white sand from time to time. His eyes scanned the blue and orange expanse before him. The wind was chilly but he didn't care as his open jacket flapped around him. The blond merely stood, unmoving, like a pillar.

A pillar that was about to crumble.

He watched the sun disappear from the horizon, making everything in front of him a pitch black color. A humorless chuckle escaped at him as he thought about how his surroundings had finally caught up to his mood. He looked up and his gaze was drawn to the small dots of white that littered the dark sky. The familiar urge to take flight and reach those shining things overcame him, but he suppressed it.

"_Whatcha looking at?"_

Marco whipped his head so fast, his eyes almost fully opened in shock. It was _his_ voice; he swore it! He could feel his heart hammering in his chest as he quickly looked around the area for the source of _his _voice.

He couldn't find anyone or anything and gave a low oath, finally moving from his spot. A hand went up to his bare chest as his heart continued to beat wildly. There was no mistaking it. That was exactly what _he _had said almost three years ago when he caught Marco staring up at the stars. The memory of that night threatened to resurface but he fought it.

"_For a second, I thought you were gonna fly."_

Marco's pace quickened and soon he was sprinting. He didn't dare to find the source of the sound anymore. When a big boulder showed up on his way, he pulled back his fist and slammed it hard on the rough surface. The boulder cracked and crumbled into many pieces at his feet. Marco was breathing heavily as he slumped on the ground, not paying any mind to the sharp rocks digging in his knees and gave in to the memory more painful than physical pain.

_Like a moth to the flame, Marco sat beside the teen who was sitting on the ground and staring at the ocean. "I thought you went to town with Thatch." _

_The freckled teen scowled. "I was until he left me at a bar to mess around with some girl he just met."_

_Marco chuckled. "That sounds like Thatch. But why did you leave?"_

"_What do you mean?"_

"_Are you not interested in finding a girl, too?"_

_The moon illuminated the young man's face turning beet red at that. "W-what?! I-it's not like that! I just…."_

_The embarrassment in the younger man's face made Marco curious. "What?"_

_Then the blushing man's eyes hardened in determination. "I can't do that because I'm in love with someone else."_

_Marco had to admit. It took a lot to surprise someone like him and he was definitely caught off guard by the teen's remark. "I see." He felt anger and jealousy stir and set them aside. This was not about him. Or his feelings towards the newest_ and_ youngest member of their crew._

"_It's you."_

_It was said so plainly, so quickly, that Marco was left speechless for a while. He glanced at the young man who was avoiding his eyes, shoulders tensed as if preparing to run at the first sign that he had made a mistake._

"_Ace," was all he said._

_Reluctantly, Ace met Marco's calm gaze. He noted how Ace's eyes were filled with nervousness and uncertainty and how his lips were set in a thin line yet they quivered slightly, almost indistinctly. He found himself tracing them, wanting to ease Ace's worries. Marco took one look at Ace's shocked expression before he leaned down and kissed him lightly._

Marco stood up and glared at the blood stained rocks. His fondness for seashores stemmed from that moment in his life. The day Ace had admitted his love for him. And now that Ace was….

His arms stretched out and instantly became bright blue and yellow wings. He took off into the night, transforming into his phoenix form once his feet left the ground.

Marco hated what was happening to him. It was almost a year since that happened. The crew even agreed to visit the island where their fallen comrades rested next week, the anniversary of that wretched war. He was aware of how he was the topic of his brothers and sisters' conversations these days, but he couldn't help it. The pain, the anger, the longing, and the sadness were hitting him all at the same time, and he could find no other solution than to drink booze to relieve him from all of it.

Marco glided through the sky. For once in his life, he did not bother worrying about the Marines seeing him. He was in desperate need of distractions.

"_This is so cool!"_

A strangled screech left Marco as he heard Ace's voice once more. This time, he felt two strong arms around his neck, causing him to look over his shoulder. There was nothing. Only thin air.

The phoenix turned around and flew back to the direction of the island, searching for their ship. He made his wings beat faster against the wind, not wanting to remember the first time he took Ace for a ride. It pained him to remember his wide, astonished grin, his excited voice….

In his distraction, he didn't see the white sails in front of him and crashed right into it, falling limply to the deck and shocking Jozu who was on watch.

"Marco, are you all right?"

Groaning, Marco stood up, now in his human form. "Yeah, I'm fine, yoi." He cleared his throat. "You were on watch, correct? I'll take it from here, Jozu. You can go rest or join the others in town."

"But—" the first mate said.

"It's all right, yoi. Besides, I want to do something … useful anyway."

Jozu stared at Marco, knowing the root of his pain, and decided to leave him alone. He trusted Marco not to do anything foolish.

"I'll be leaving then."

Marco nodded and walked to the railing. When he Jozu's footsteps were gone, he leaned against the metal and let his head fall into his hands.

"_What got you so stressed this time, Marco?"_

Another memory again. He didn't want to look up, knowing that the sight—or lack of it—would sour his mood even more. Yet he found himself looking up towards the figurehead of the ship.

His breath caught.

There sat Ace, grinning at him. Marco stood up straight, mouth gaping and heart clenching at the sight of his lover. He merely stared unblinkingly, convinced that it was all another figment of his imagination that would disappear if he blinked.

Ace's grin widened. _"It's going to be okay, you stupid turkey!"_

The release that Marco had denied himself after his lover and his father's burial and the pain he tried to suppress pushed through the nearly collapsing wall he had built and crashed down. His vision blurred as tears streamed down his cheeks. He was sobbing loudly, he knew it, but didn't care as his knees hit the wooden floor.

He didn't know how long he cried. Once he calmed down, he knew before facing the figurehead that Ace was gone. He sat down at the place he had just seen the young man and lay down, gazing up at the stars and finally closing his eyes.

For someone like Marco who had walked the earth for a long time, many would ask what his life was like. At first, he had been proud of his abilities and how people envied him. Yet as time went by, he grew bored and found that he became the one envious of others.

He never really thought about it but after meeting Ace, he realized his life was like a candle. A candle that alighted when he joined Whitebeard and blazed hotter than ever when a certain freckled younger man who had teased, spent time with, and loved him enough to last a lifetime entered in his life.

And now his flame flickered as the candle melted until there was no more. Just molten wax and a candle wick.

He was a candle that had burned out.

**A/N: Did you cry? Yes? No? Type away your frustrations in a review!**

**And, ugh, I was sure picking candles as a simile or something for Marco and Ace would be great but, ugh, I'm just not too happy with what I wrote. :/ I hope it's not too cheesy.**

**Writing this pained me, too. Do you know how many times I made mistakes? One, I almost referred to Izo as the 16****th**** commander even though it's probably different now because of the lack of *sniff* second and fourth division commanders. Two (the most painful), I wrote down the Moby Dick before remembering that it was destroyed. T.T I really hate that stupid war! My beloved Whitebeard pirates are suffering too much!**

**Your thoughts please? :)**


End file.
